


all the stars and phosphorus

by sifuamelia



Series: you + me + all of the people [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Mild Language, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Past Character Death, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifuamelia/pseuds/sifuamelia
Summary: Keith’s older brother drags him on a camping trip.





	all the stars and phosphorus

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

Keith rolled his eyes so hard that he was pretty sure that he caught a glimpse of the inner workings of his overtired brain. But, as was maddeningly usual, Shiro was right. "Okay, I don't hate _you_ ," he amended.

His older brother just hummed along to the song on the radio. It had no words, just a jazzy, blues-y tune — Shiro had always liked that kind of music. Instrumental, orchestral, whatever. Back when he was in school, he'd consistently claimed that it'd helped him study better. Keith tested that theory out a few times on his own, but ultimately, total silence remained his best study buddy.

"But I _do_ hate everything about this."

"So you've said. Many times."

"Who's keeping track?" Keith grumbled.

"Seventeen," Shiro replied.

"'Seventeen' what?"

"Seventeen times," his older brother elaborated. Keith could see that his eyes were still trained on the dusty road stretching out endlessly in front of them, but there was a hard note in his mellow voice. "Let's not make it eighteen, okay?"

Too bad he'd never had particularly good impulse control. "Look," he said, pointing out the camper's windshield. "There's the sign for Exit 3B. We've still got time to turn around."

"Keith," Shiro warned.

"If we're back by five, I can pick up an extra shift at the studio—"

" _Keith_." Without warning, Shiro swerved into the highway's shoulder lane, causing Keith to let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp of shock. The lady who'd been riding along behind them for the past half hour whaled on her horn — as she sped by, he could see her flipping them the bird. He could also feel Shiro's eyes on him, and he slunk even lower in the passenger seat of the camper, crossing his arms even more tightly across his chest.

Yup. He'd done it yet again. He'd pulled a _Keith_.

"What's going on, Keith?" Shiro asked quietly. Even when his younger brother knew that he was pissing him the hell off in any capacity, he never raised his voice. Keith hated that. He was a lot better at shouting matches than dealing with the whole disappointment act. "You used to love camping."

He just shrugged, staring out the window. In any given direction, he could see a wide band of heat haze shimmering over the seemingly infinite expanse of the rocky Texas desert. The flat landscape was only broken up by low clusters of bowl cacti and the occasional tumbleweed. But foothills were beginning to emerge in the distance — Route 37 was about to take them right past Choke Canyon. Soon, the desert would be giving way to greenery. _Real_ greenery, nothing like the unnaturally-manicured lawns of the ritzy suburban neighborhoods of San Antonio.

And then, saltwater.

Their dad had had an ungodly love for this damn road and what lay at the end of it. And Shiro was right — Keith had loved it, once, too. But now...

"Whaling on a bagful of sand in the basement under Sal's Gym twenty-four-seven is no way to spend your last carefree summer," Shiro remarked, voice still infuriatingly gentle.

"Maybe if I bulk up, I'll do better at job interviews," he responded sarcastically. "Like, _intimidate_ them into giving me a position. Ever think about _that_? Huh?"

"Keith..."

"Let's just get back on the road, okay?" he interrupted. " _I'll_ take a nap, and _you_ can wipe that worried look off your face for a few goddamn hours."

He finally peeled himself away from the window to meet his brother's eyes. They were so full of concern. He looked almost exactly like their mother when he had those eyes on, even though he shared zero features with her. He'd completely taken after their father, appearance and personality in total. Yet another thing that Keith couldn't stand, because it hurt them both — when Shiro tried to pull the whole parenting thing on him, it just made things worse.

"Okay," Shiro said after a few moments' hesitation, finally taking his eyes off of his younger brother. With a swing of his hands, he carefully re-merged onto the highway, and they were back to rolling along through the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

Keith pushed his jacket's hood up over his hair, pulling it down over his eyes. The artificial darkness didn't put him to sleep nearly as quickly as he wanted it to, but eventually, he slipped off into an empty space that even Shiro couldn't reach.

 

* * *

 

"Keith." Somebody was shaking him awake. "Keith, we're here."

 _Dad?_  His hands shot up to vigorously rub at his gummy eyes. But the shadowy square-jawed face quickly revealed itself to belong to his older brother, and he immediately felt very foolish.

"We made good time." Shiro unbuckled his seatbelt, stretching his beefy arms so wide that something popped. " _Damn_ , that feels _nice_..."

Keith inhaled slowly. The air smelled like salt, just like he remembered. And as he looked around, he was surprised to see that their usual campsite was nearly empty. Just a few other campers parked haphazardly along the bluffs, canvas tents pitched in close proximity. If he squinted, he could make out a few people squatting around a fire pit. But one of those tents was stilted awfully close to the shoreline...

He squinted out at the Gulf of Mexico. The tide was out for now, but it wouldn't be long before it came rushing back in. "That tent's gonna float away in a few hours," he observed, thrusting his pointer finger in the direction of the ill-fated structure.

Shiro's eyes widened. "Oh, shit, you're right!" He pushed open his side door. "We should go warn them."

"How 'bout _you_ do that, and I'll stick around in here."

His older brother shot him a _look_. It didn't say, _Quit being a goddamn misanthrope and get your skinny ass out of this here vehicle at once!_  All it said was, _Try to be at least a **little** social, okay?_

Keith hated being social. There was a reason why he liked to hide down under Sal's Gym and hit a punching bag all day. Nobody else ever showed up.

" _Fiiiiine_." And with that, he found himself reluctantly dragging his goddamn skinny ass out of the camper and into the South Padre Island sunlight.

 

* * *

 

"I can't begin to express how appreciative I am for your assistance," the lady eagerly said for what was probably the umpteenth time. She shot Shiro a killer smile as she did so, although Keith didn't perceive it as particularly flirtatious. Girls and guys alike _really_ liked to flirt with his older brother. When he was younger, Keith had found it hysterically funny. But nowadays, it was just plain old annoying.

Still, this lady seemed more relieved than anything else. "We would've lost all our belongings if it wasn't for your timely intervention."

"I-It was nothing," Shiro said stiffly, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, muscles straining underneath his tight v-neck t-shirt. Keith took in his older brother's pinked cheeks, with a growing confusion... that suddenly exploded into full-on amusement.

_Wait a minute. Is he **blushing**?_

He surreptitiously eyed the lady. She was probably a year or two older than him (maybe more of a girl than a lady, then, despite the almost regal air that she carried herself with), but younger than Shiro. And she was really pretty.

Actually, kind of stunning. Even though women weren't really his taste, he still knew enough about them to appreciate the menu. Her hair and eyes were incredibly light for somebody with such deeply-colored skin. She was slim, but she definitely looked like she knew her way around a weight room. If Shiro had any kind of type (not that he and Keith really discussed that sort of thing), it was a gym buddy for life.

He could feel a semblance of a smile quirking its way across his face. But then—

"Watch it, _punk_ ," someone whispered threateningly in his ear. "Eyes off my niece!"

Keith nearly jumped out of his own skin as he pinwheeled away, arms flailing, from what he was pretty sure had been a pair of bushy whiskers in his unsuspecting ears. And he was right — as he regained his balance, he could see that the unwelcome interloper had a very sizable (and blindingly ginger) mustache.

"What the fu—!"

"Uncle Coran!" the lady exclaimed, rushing between them. "What're you doing?"

The man, who had to be at least a few decades older than Shiro, pointed an aggressive finger in Keith's shocked direction. "This little heathen was making eyes at you!"

 _'Little heathen?' 'Making eyes?'_ Keith's eyebrows shot up into his shaggy hairline, unable to form even a single syllable's worth of a response to _that_. _Is this guy for real?_

Shiro exploded with laughter, leaning on their strange new neighbors' camper for support. The lady looked between them, then bursted into her own (slightly awkward, but mostly like a goddamn Disney princess) peal of giggles as well.

"Oh, Coran," she said, patting him reassuringly on the forearm. Keith was beginning to notice something of a British accent within the formal tones of her voice. "Why must you always look for trouble where there isn't any?"

"No trouble here," Keith muttered, glaring over at his older brother, who was still doubled over with glee. Shiro caught his expression and mouthed an apology.

The lady looked between them once more, then stepped forward, offering a hand to Keith. "My name's Allura," she introduced herself warmly. "This is my uncle, Coran." She paused, then added somewhat sheepishly, "We're very new to this whole camping business, but we thought we'd give it a try this week." Coran grumbled something that sounded like a reluctant agreement with her words.

Keith eyed the overprotective uncle warily as he reached out to shake her hand. "I'm Keith. That's Shiro."

"Are you brothers?" Allura inquired.

Keith blinked. _That_ was quick. People usually didn't make that guess — Keith and Shiro didn't look very much alike at all. "Y-Yeah."

"So lovely that you go camping together!" She smiled that killer smile once more. "I assume you must be much more expert than we are."

He just shrugged, but it was then that Shiro stepped in, which he was _very_ grateful for. "We've been around here a few times," his older brother explained. "Real nice to meet you," he added as an afterthought.

At this point, Keith was about 89.73% sure that he was blushing. _Great._ He'd never in a bazillion years discouraged Shiro from pursuing some kind of relationship, but he'd also never really thought about sharing him with somebody else, either—

He shook his head, as if the physical motion would somehow clear up his tangled thoughts. _Dude, we literally **just** met her. She's not about to become your sister-in-law anytime soon, for Chrissake!_

A poke in the ribs nearly startled him out of his skin once more. "Ready to set up camp, little bro?" Shiro asked him, all bright and cheery. It was enough to force his reluctant smile into finally making an appearance. Shiro really _did_ take after their dad, never happier than when he was out here, right up against the edge of the sea.

"Sounds good," Keith replied. And suddenly, it really did, no matter how hard he tried to brush it off as he helped Shiro unload the camper.

 

* * *

 

By the time that they pitched their own tent (a reasonably safe distance from the shoreline), the sun was setting over the gulf's horizon. Texan sunsets were pretty spectacular, one of the things that made Keith never want to leave the southwest. After all, he hadn't exactly enrolled at TAMU for the thriving gay bar scene — to his knowledge, there were less such establishments than he could count on both hands (not that he really went to those kinds of places anyway, _but_ ). In his mind, though, vast desert sunsets had no rival. Nothing else could even come close.

 _Well, maybe except for one of these._ From his spot atop a sandy bluff, he gazed out into the distance — it was like the gulf's rushing waves had been set on fire, lighting up everything within the span of his vision with a brilliant burst of light.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Suddenly, Shiro was standing next to him, contemplating the view.

"Hmph." Keith crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't ready to admit that he was actually starting to have an okay time out here. Because if he did, it would be like betrayal. Betraying the memory of their—

"Wanna go do some sunset fishing?"

"Yeah, sure," Keith replied, all too quickly. Anything to get away from the sudden burst of gut-wrenching memories — pitching his first tent, casting his first line. Burying Shiro up to his neck in sand and endowing him with a nice rack of lumpy breasts.

And Dad, right there, with his goofy little headlamp strapped to a plastic water jug, a soft glow warming up the darkness of a canvas tent on an island in the middle of nighttime, and stories about all kinds of spooks and sea monsters and stars settling Keith into the gentlest of sleeps...

Well. He hoped that he was imagining that godawful concerned expression making a reappearance on his older brother's square-jawed face.

 

* * *

 

"What's even in the water this time of year, anyway?" he asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. It was like he was ten years-old all over again, trying to keep up with his older brother as they rushed down to the flat coastline below the island's bluffs, poles and bait in tow.

Shiro wore a tiny frown as he considered Keith's question. "...I don't know," he finally admitted.

"Well, guess we'll find out."

"You sound genuinely excited," Shiro observed, and the naked surprise in his voice pulled at Keith's gut just a little bit, too.

They came to a stop at the water's edge — there, off to the side, was a worn-out old pier. Besides a lonely canoe, no boats were moored at it — the water was far too shallow for that. The pier's boards were water-logged and grown over with mushy green stuff. The entire thing looked like it was about to collapse into the gulf.

"Sunset Kingdom," Keith commented quietly. "It's just like I remembered it."

His older brother deposited their supplies in the sand, then laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was oddly comforting. "You know, Keith," he began slowly. "It sure is nice to see that look on your face again."

Keith didn't want to meet his eyes. He didn't want to see the reflection of their father — not right now. "Which look?"

"The one that includes a smile," Shiro teased, but his voice had a serious undercurrent to it. "I don't think I've seen this side of you in years."

"Probably all this damn salt in the air," Keith grumbled. "Addles my brain."

His older brother chuckled, moving his hand from Keith's shoulder upward to muss up his hair. "Better than locking yourself up in a sweaty gym basement all summer long, huh?" he asked.

Keith shrugged him off. "Maybe," he admitted, his tone begrudging.

Another chuckle. "C'mon. Let's set up shop."

 

* * *

 

Even long after the Atlantic Ocean had swallowed the sun in its entirety, they still sat out on the crumbling pier, lines dangling loosely into the warm gulf waters. They'd caught a few things that Keith sort of recognized — their grandparents had gotten them some kind of natural history encyclopedia set for one childhood Christmas, and he'd read the damn thing front to back so many times that at some point, he'd probably known the names of all of the fish in the sea.

But three years of college under his belt had basically drained his brain of that kind of stuff. Still, it was admittedly the best kind of feeling to be sitting out on the water's edge with nothing but Shiro and a slowly rising moon for company. The first stars were beginning to wink into existence, too. They were way brighter out here than they were in the crowded city, shining brilliantly down on the narrow spit of an island in the middle of the water.

"Hey, there's that scorpion constellation," he pointed out to his older brother.

Shiro followed his finger. "That's the one that chases Orion, right? Trying to bite off his feet, or something?"

Keith let out a mildly patronizing whistle. " _Somebody_  paid attention in his entry-level classical studies course!"

"Hey, now!" Shiro leaned into him. It was enough to nearly shove Keith off of the pier and into the water below. He caught a glimpse of their reflections then. Even though they were barely visible as nighttime overtook the gulf, he could still make out his own face, pale and sharp and—

"I'm sorry. About before."

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of gently lapping waves filling up his ears. It was threatening to draw all of the balled-up sadness and anger and hurt straight out of his gut and up into his throat, to spill out of his eyes and mouth and everything in between—

But then Shiro said, "You don't need to apologize, kid."

"I was being an ass," Keith protested. "So, I'm sorry. I really am."

"Hah. 'Was?'"

"Just let me have my moment, Shiro, and then we can go back to bro-ing it up."

"You expressing your emotions doesn't detract from us 'bro-ing it up,'" his older brother countered. "God, I can't believe that grouping of words just came out of my mouth. Where'd you learn to talk like that, anyway?"

"At least I'm not cussing, right?"

Shiro sighed theatrically. "Truth be told, I'd rather you cuss than be a bro."

"Suh, dude?"

"We aren't related anymore," Shiro proclaimed.

Keith laid down his pole on the worn-out pier — he wasn't really catching anything anyway, and when he did, he was far more inclined to throw it back than keep it. He lowered himself downward onto the loose wooden boards, deciding that if the thing finally caved in and fell into the water, it wouldn't be the end of the world. A little saltwater wouldn't hurt him — he could trust in _that_ , at least. And after a moment, he could hear Shiro following suit.

The stars really were brilliant, and it was enough to make Keith say, "I wonder what Mom's doing right now."

"Huh." Another few moments of nothing but waves. "Think she can see Scorpius chasing Orion, too?"

Keith shrugged, but quickly stopped (because a loose nail was digging into his bare shoulder, and even though Shiro had been pestering him to do it, he still hadn't gotten his tetanus booster yet).

"Dunno what the view's like up there."

"Didn't Dad say that dusk is the best time to catch a satellite?"

Something inside him hitched once more at the mention of their father. "Y-Yeah. About an hour after sunset. But they move quick." He paused, licking his lips. "You think she's happy up there?"

With an agonized creaking of rotting boards, Shiro rolled onto his side and reached out to muss with his hair once more. "Eating freeze-dried ice cream for every meal? Doubtful."

"She said astronauts don't _really_ eat that stuff," Keith reminded him.

"I think..." Even though he couldn't quite make out Shiro's face from his own angle, Keith could still hear a frown creeping into his older brother's voice. "I think she's doing what she's meant to be doing. If that makes sense."

"Which is like happiness, isn't it?"

"...Wow, this conversation's getting heavy."

"You're my big brother! You're supposed to know the answers to everything!" he argued.

"Well, you're in for disappointment there," Shiro chuckled. "I can't even properly remember my Greek myths!"

They were quiet for a moment, then, with nothing but the soft slaps of the waves against the boards, until Keith mumbled, "No matter how much shit I give you about it, I'm actually pretty glad you dragged me all the fucking way out here, Shiro."

"Watch your mouth." The frown had disappeared, replaced with a smile, and that's how Keith knew that _Shiro_ knew that he'd meant every single word of it.

"You said you'd rather me cuss!"

"Mom might be watching."

Ignoring all of the improbability of _that_ statement, Keith shot back hotly with, " _She_ cusses, too!"

"I think I'll start a swear jar this week," his older brother said, almost sing-song. "Every dirty word, you owe me a dollar—"

And with money on the line, it was officially time for a topic change. "So how 'bout that girl Allura? You  _makin' eyes_ at her?"

"What!" Shiro rolled away, and nearly into the water at that, completely betraying any semblance of nonchalance that he could've hoped to have. "Wh-What does  _that_  — I never! — What're you even talking about—!"

"Watch out for Uncle Coran. He looks like the kinda guy that smells fear, or something," Keith observed, cheek twitching.

"Don't be rude to strangers, Keith—"

"Don't tell me what to do, Shiro—"

"Wanna talk about Coffee Shop Lance, then?" his brother suddenly shot back, and even though they were both shrouded in the close darkness, Keith knew that he was wearing his best shit-eating grin. "You'll probably run a deficit on my new swear jar, with all that loose change you spend on tipping him for your fancy cold brew."

"I'm gonna push you off this pier," Keith declared flatly, sitting up with a  _creak_.

Shiro responded to this threat by flat-out ignoring it — he simply leaned back on his elbows and smiled serenely. "I'm glad we're here, too." And in that moment, they just  _were_ , on their little island of light in that vast sea of darkness.

And Keith didn't feel the need to pretend that he was perfectly fine with it. Or that he was perfectly fine with _anything_ , in the grand scheme of _all_ things, and _everything_ in between them. From Akira's weathered grave on the edge of Lackland Air Force Base, growing older and mossier for every single year that his sons did, to their mom's lonely view from a porthole window of the ISS, where maybe, _just_ maybe, once in awhile, she might turn away from that happiness of hers, turn back to look out on all that she'd left behind...

Those were all of the stars and phosphorus that made up Keith's (strange and horrible and complex and wonderful) life. And thank those goddamn stars that they'd given him Shiro, always there to help him see it all through.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing a lot of Pocket Camp lately! Who else loves that game? It's so soothing!


End file.
